Mortification

Mortification

Mortification

I am a healthy virile married male with a very active marital sex life and I've got a secret. It's not something I would ever admit to my friends or, God forbid, my wife but I am addicted to sex. And not just intercourse since my wife might actually be pretty pleased with me if that were the case. I still consider myself as being faithful to my marriage but I am really just kidding myself. Just because a guy does not engage in coitus with anyone other than his wife, that doesn't make him faithful. It's sort of a Bill Clinton defense tactic.

For many years, I had been frequenting adult book stores or should I say adult video booths. Actually, this practice even predates my marriage. I've been doing this ever since I could get entry to these places as a young man. I would guess it all started when I was around 18. I didn't have much of a problem getting into these places even though they posted the minimum age requirement of 21 prominently on the door. Occasionally, one of the old clerks would challenge me and sometimes throw me out but most of the time I got in without any problem. In the early days, I would look through the books and magazines and buy a couple at a time but I really didn't have any place with enough privacy to get the most enjoyment out of them. I would hide them in my car and sometimes sneak one into my house and bathroom to use as jerk off material but I had a difficult time keeping them hidden from my mother and later, from my wife. This would ultimately lead me away from printed materials and into the booths.

It took me several years to get up enough courage to go through the curtained door at the back of these bookstores into the dark cavern of video sex. Early on, the booths featured 8mm film loops powered by the many quarters you had to drop in the slots to keep the projectors clicking away. The air was rank with a stale stench of Lysol that was used to overcome the rank odor of spilled dried up sperm deposited by the untold movie goers as they dumped their loads on the floor inside of the booths. Early on, I often had to stand back from the screen when placing quarters in the slot so as not to slip on the cum of the previous occupants. The more perverted masturbators would squirt their loads squarely in the center of the floor of the booth to ensure the next guy would step in it. I became so intrigued by the pervasive slime that I sometimes slid the sole of my shoe around the floor to find the slick spatter beneath my foot in order to somehow vicariously absorb the excitement that the men must have felt when creating the mess. I imagined that I was good at assessing the amount of time since its deposit and judge of consistency of the ejaculate beneath my foot. I assigned the deposits as to the time of their creation. I would assess how fresh the sample was to determine if it was left by the last occupant of the booth or the one before him, or even if it was a composite of both. I could tell how viscous it was even through the relatively thick leather sole of my shoes. I would test its resilience by lightly tapping and then applying pressure on the glob and then slowly sliding my foot in circles to detect the amount of resistance which would indicate its age. Of course, I had no reference to compare these observations to other than my own ejaculate. But, in all candor, I studied that quite a bit also. I became obsessed with sperm and its feel under my feet as I shot it onto a relatively dry area of the floor of a booth. I performed all of my various tests with my very own sperm to develop standards for comparison. I noticed the difference between the test results when I was very horny leading up to cumming as compared to when I would just quickly rub one off. I made a study based upon quarter count – a quarter would give you a couple of minutes of viewing each. The longer I watched the porn movies the more cum I produced but the less viscous it was. The fewer quarters resulted in less volume but thicker sperm. These results became meaningless when I would come across scenes in movies or topics that really turned me on. In those cases, I usually shot a large volume and a very thick and creamy load. The difference between testing my own loads and feeling those left by others was curiosity verses excitement. I studied mine but experienced theirs. It got to the point that I was disappointed when I found the floor of the booth dry or only tacky. I began waiting for someone to leave a booth so that I could enter it immediately after him hoping to find his load on the floor.

As all fetishes do, this perversion escalated. I began to notice that guys would sometimes squirt their loads on the wall. Fascinated, I eventually began to experiment with this also. At some point, sublimating all revulsion I reached out with my hand and felt the previous guy's slime graciously placed there for my study. I used my index finger to test my resolve which was immediately confirmed by a thrill that coursed through my body and to my brain. My erection reacted by becoming harder and surprisingly bigger. I was immediately drawn to the slippery texture and feel of the residue beneath my finger. Although not body temperature, sometimes it had not yet cooled to the temperature of the air in the booth but retained sufficient heat to indicate that it was expelled just moments before. I would slide my finger around and follow its path down the wall so as not to lose its trail but would stop just short of the globs of jizz that was pooled on the filthy floor where the bulk of the ejaculate ended up. I could picture in my mind, the splash after his sperm left the tip of his cock and hit the matte black painted surface of the wall with some of it adhering to the surface but sliding inevitably to the floor; surely, most of it by sheer force alone bounced off of the wall and plummeted directly to the floor. I would run my finger up and down the slimy path until it became tacky and then dry under my touch. While it was still wet, I had to resist the temptation to explore the slime with my tongue. I wanted to know how it would taste. My deviant behavior was escalating to where I was spiraling out of control and into a pit of perversion. I was having extreme difficulty resisting my compulsions. With every trip to the booths and every encounter with sperm, the grip of depravity tightened.

I had a bit of a reprieve when I met the beautiful girl that would eventually become my wife. Well, not immediately; only after we started experimenting with sex. Once we started we both went at it with all abandon and my deviant curiosity diminished; at least for the time being. Fortunately, we were both similarly oversexed and gave into our every carnal desire. We were perfectly matched as a couple. We were soon married and our mutual sexual escapades continued. Neither of us had ever had sexual contact with any other person or, should I more correctly say, "Direct sexual contact with another person." I guess that I can only speak for myself with that since I never even asked her about her sexual history. But, I do know that it was a long slow run around those bases before I tagged home. First base was really easy but extra bases took forever. However, when we finally "did the deed," I was very aware of breaking her hymen and the discomfort she expressed when I entered her. I was gentle and patient with her and when she said, "Go ahead," we never looked back. We went at it like wild dogs every chance we got and in just about every place we could. She was actually more the aggressor than I. She began to dress and act more provocatively and without regard to where we were or who we were with. The only exception being in front of her family and old friends with whom she continued to play the role of St. Teresa. Honestly, the innocence role play was the biggest turn-on for me. We always had our best sex after we would be with friends and family. On those occasions, I could hardly keep from ravishing her right in front of them. It was like a fantasy of seducing a nun.

Like everything in life, sex got old and we were doing it less and less; especially after she had our third child. It didn't end completely but the slowdown drove me back to masturbating. The slower things got between us the more I had to jerkoff. The desire to masturbate became overwhelming. So much so that I had to start doing it away from the house so I wouldn't get caught. I knew where the video booths were taking me and I wanted to avoid that downward spiral so I decided to try the adult cinema which was a couple of towns away where I was sure that I wouldn't run into anyone who would recognize me. I had passes the place a few times; never giving it much thought. It was a converted movie theater in a reasonably safe... no, very safe part of the town; the only way you would know that it was an adult theater was by the triple X' in red letters at the top of the marquee and the bawdy titles of the features now playing. The rest of the building was clean and well maintained fitting comfortably into the surrounding shops and eateries lining the street. The heyday for this town was long past and most of the stores were empty or closed. The only thing other than the theater open at night was the taproom in the next block down. The streetlights were bright enough to give the impression that business was being conducted in the shops but in reality, the movie was the only thing open.

I parked on a side street with more subdued lighting; hoping not to be seen. I was the only person on the street as I approached the entrance of the theater; I was beginning to have second thoughts, not wanting to be the only person in there. My balls told me that I needed release more than I needed group anonymity so I continued to the ticket booth. For a moment, it brought back memories of going to the movies with my mom and dad and dad saying to the matronly lady behind the glass partition, "Two adults and one child, Please." Well, that was another time and another theater but the memory was fresh; so much so that I walked up to the booth and unconsciously said, "One adult please." I felt like an idiot. Upon breaking out of the reverie of my youth by a gruff voice coming through the round slotted aluminum portal in the middle of the glass partition in front of me, I realized my gaff. The matronly ticket seller of long ago was replaced by fat old man chewing on the stub of an unlit cigar who was sneering at me through his brown tobacco stained teeth and too mean to just laugh at my mistake. He said, "This ain't no Disneyland buddy." I sheepishly smiled and slid my five dollar bill through the little window at the bottom of the glass and along the worn marble counter we shared between us. I stood there waiting for a ticket to pop out of the slit of the stainless ticket dispenser in the top of the counter but nothing came out. The guy looked at me for awhile and barked, "Do you need a special invitation? Go on in!"

The theater looked like any theater of my youth but a bit darker and in much poorer condition. The brightest light was coming from the abandoned candy counter that would have been crowded by kids in another day and time but the only thing in the expansive glass case was an old cardboard box half filled with bags of Planter's peanuts that were probably as old as me. Gone was the smell of corn popping; now replaced with a heady musty smell that I could not really identify other than as being not pleasant. I walked past the counter and rounded the corner to the large lobby that, in its day, would have been brightly lit before the performance and had people milling about finding other members of their party or running into friends that just happened to be at the same performance. Kids would be running around screaming and making nuisances of themselves. At the dimming of the chandeliers, people would have moved into the auditorium and assumed their seats. Those days had long passed. The only light was that escaping from the theater through the half glass partitions and not blocked by the old dusty red velvet draperies hanging above the glass. The glass panes were about two feet high and mounted on a wooden shoulder height partition now dark from age and scraped and scratched sufficiently to hide its original beauty. The glass panels were lightly etched around the edges forming a clear oval in the center through which to see into the auditorium and view the screen. The screen was mammoth in size and at moment I peered in, it was covered from one side of the theater to the other with a between the legs view of vigorous missionary style fucking. I was looking to see where I should sit. There were two openings in the partition connecting to the aisles that separated the seating into three groups with the largest area being in the middle. There were hundreds of seats in the auditorium but only a couple of dozen people dispersed among all of those seats. Only a few were paired or grouped up with most of them sitting in as much isolation as could be had.

I decided to take a seat in the center section along the far aisle and had to feel my way along the wall to get to the opening since my eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the dim. I was somewhat blinded by the brightness of the screen as I entered the aisle and had to divert my eyes to avoid the discomfort and ended up looking directly at two couples huddled in the center of the last row of seats along the back partition. They were actually right under the portion of the wall where I was looking through the glass but was totally unaware that they were just below my line of site. I assumed they were two married couples but I don't know why I thought that. All four of them were wearing ball caps and dark clothing to try to look as inconspicuous as possible. It didn't work, however, since it appeared that they were wearing some kind of uniform that only served to draw attention to them; at least it drew my attention. There was a lot of giggling from the women and quite a bit of movement among them. I tried to me inconspicuous myself and moved up a few rows and took a seat three in from the end. There, other than the two couples behind me, no one else was nearby. I settled in to enjoy the Cinerama of sex in front of me on the screen but noticed how quiet things got behind me. I couldn't resist the temptation to turn my head to see what they were doing and thought for a moment that the women had left, that is, until I saw a head bobbing up and down over the nearest guy's lap. I could see that baseball cap pop up at the top of the seat back in front of him and then disappear as quickly as it appeared over and over again. The guy was staring directly at the screen. Not so for the guy next to him who had his head back as it he was looking at the ceiling. I don't know why but I looked up there too as if to see whatever he was looking at. Hidden up there in the dark was a very intricately patterned corbelled ceiling with lots of paintings and decorations. Among the paintings was a beautiful mermaid with her nipples concealed by a thin strand of seaweed. She was reaching across to a very muscular merman who was puffing his chest with pride. I felt a little silly looking up for fear that the guy noticed me but he was in no condition to notice anyone. He was lost in his erotic fantasies instigated by the blowjob he was getting from his wife. Somehow it seemed more tantalizing to me to imagine she being his wife instead of some tramp he picked up at a bar. I kind of wished that I could bring my own wife here to have a little fun but I was ashamed, not to ask her because I think she would come, but ashamed that she would know how perverted I am being outside of our marriage.

I brought my attention back to the film once the two women sat upright and leaned back into their seats. Since they all stayed seated, I assumed that the men hadn't shot their wads yet. My cock was as hard as it had ever been and needed attention so I unzipped my pants and fished out my best friend. The feeling of the cool air around my cock and the awareness that it was out in a public place where absolute strangers could see it gave me an almost overwhelming feeling of freedom; a sense of euphoria. At once, I wanted to stand up and ask everyone to turn around and look at it. I loved my cock and wanted to show it off. I wanted others to see the center of my being; the center of my joy; my cock.

Of course, I didn't do that. I just sat there and began to slowly and tenderly stroke it. I had to take it easy because I was afraid I would cum too soon and waste the rest of my porno-night out. I just sat back and played with it sufficiently to keep me on the edge but not over the top.

While I was pleasuring myself, other people started dribbling into the theater and some would leave. The overall count remained pretty constant while I was there. I had forgotten about the couples behind me and when I turned back to look, they were gone, but I did notice that a guy was now sitting at the far end of my row and he was looking straight at me. I looked back at the screen for awhile but could almost feel his stare from across the theater. I looked back at him and he apparently took it as an invitation by me and he stood up, cock hanging out of his pants, and worked his way across all of the seats to the one right next to me. My earlier feelings of pride quickly diminished at the sight of his manhood and I pulled my sweatshirt over my cock to hide it as he came near. Just one glance at his monster made me feel rather inadequate. I had never felt that way before. After plopping into the seat, he leaned into me and asked if he could "give me a hand." Give me a hand! Christ! He wanted to jerk me off. I wasn't interested in that and said, "No, not really." He recognized the confused look on my face and just leaned back in his seat and said, "That's ok. I understand, do you mind if I keep you company while I jerk off?" I was flabbergasted, not that he asked but at myself for not expecting that while in a place like this. After all, that is why we were all there.

I tried to keep my eyes on the screen but couldn't help but seeing him work his large cock in my peripheral vision. Ultimately, I could not resist the temptation to look directly at the enormous cock he was being stroked only inches from me. The guy gave me a reassuring nod and said, "Feel free to touch it if you want. I won't mind." I have to admit that I wanted to but my homophobic safety system kicked in and I said, "No thanks;" as if he was expecting a polite refusal. He seemed ok with it though and kept his slow jerk going. He was apparently uncircumcised since he had more than enough spare skin to cover the enormous cockhead during each upstroke. I could see the slickness from his precum drool as it gleamed in the light from the screen. This thing was so big that it never appeared to get fully hard like mine does. It was a bit flexible under his hand and wobbled a bit on the down stroke. He did seem to get harder while I was obviously staring at it as opposed to when I would only glance at it in the corner of my eye. He liked me watching him. He turned to me a sad, "I gotta go now, buddy" and I thought he was going to pack it away and leave but, instead, he leaned back and thrust his hips out and began a more forceful pumping action on his huge staff. He grunted a few times and then, and he held his breath, shot an enormous stream of sperm out of his cock onto the back of the seat in front of him. That was followed by several more shots that splashed on the seatback until the spurts lost energy and just fell to the floor. The last few ending up on the edge of the cushion of his own seat as the last of his sperm dripped between his legs. He shook off the last drops and packed his meat away and stood up to leave. He slid past my legs facing me as my eyes remained locked on his crotch and the now hidden treasure that still bulged mightily beneath the fabric of his pants. While straddling my legs, he leaned down and whispered, "I'm here every Thursday around this time," and it felt like he kissed me lightly near my ear or at least, brushed his lips against me. I was really confused and unbelievably horny.

As soon as the guy exited the row and turned up the aisle, my focus was drawn to the back of the seat that he had just soiled. My fetish took control of my body and directed my right hand over to feel for the slime he left behind. It was still there and there was a lot of it. I placed my palm against the seatback and slid it up and down the backing sampling his warm goo. My fingers and palm were thoroughly coated with the remnants of his ejaculate and I brought it to my nose to smell the delicate male odor. My dick was as hard as a rock so I pulled my sweatshirt from over it and grabbed it with my sperm covered mitt. The feel of another man's sperm against my shaft was exquisite. I slid it up and down my shaft a few times and wrapped my wet hand over the head of my cock and felt it spurt its hot sperm into my palm. I quickly pulled my hand back down to the base of my cock and let my sperm fly just like the stranger did, only mine didn't quite make it to the seatback in front of me but just did a swan dive into the dark void between my legs. My climax was the most intense I had ever felt. As it subsided, the sensual feel of my sperm covered palm extended the ecstasy. I didn't want it to ever stop. However, it did end; the climax that is but not the feelings. Usually, my erotic feelings were replaced by exhaustion after such an intense orgasm but this was different. The knowledge that I had foreign sperm on my hand kept my excitement level peaked. I wanted more. I wanted to cum again but I knew that was not going to happen, for awhile at least, so I concentrated on the feelings of being in a place of sex and of having the evidence of someone else's sexual release on my hand and now on my cock. I took in a deep breath and studied the aroma of spent sex that was all around me; of orgasm; of sperm. My fascination had returned only this time, it was far more intense.

I returned to that theater frequently after that but never again ran into my friend and never had a similar experience or encounter. I noticed that the numbers were steadily dropping off and the clientele getting older and dirtier as the weeks turned into months. The sex acts were getting more blatant and obvious. I even witnessed anal sex acts a number of times over the months. I got up close to see these sex acts but never participated. I would just sit there and jerkoff. I dumped a ton of sperm in that place. One night when I was sitting in the very first row, I was watching a dozen or so men engage in all kinds of sex when I realized that I was getting board. The guys were, for the most part, fat and old. The movies were so boring that I seldom even looked at them. I had been getting all of my thrills from watching the live sex acts as they happened all around me. It was getting old and time for something else.

I finally gave into my old urges and headed back to the adult bookstores with video booths. I actually felt pretty comfortable back at my old haunts. Many of my regular places were gone but a few new ones had opened up since I last frequented them. The first one I picked was an old regular of mine that I particularly liked. It use to have a lot of young guys there who came and went, so to speak, leaving plenty of residue for me to examine. Things had changed since I was last there; bright lights back at the booths were the first thing I noticed. It made me feel uncomfortable standing in the brightly lit hallway waiting for someone I found acceptable to leave a booth before I entered to play with his spend. I looked up and notices a camera so I ducked into the nearest vacant booth to avoid the cameras. The booths on either side of me were occupied and I hoped that one of them would be a good candidate for my escapade. I closed the door behind me so as not to be too obvious. I noticed that there was a TV behind a Plexiglas panel instead of the translucent screen with a rear projector. Also, there were rear lighted buttons for feature selection and volume control. Finally, there was sound for my porn. The last time I was in a booth, the only thing you heard besides guys jerking off was the rapid clicking of all of the 8mm projectors with the sound of quarters being dropped into the machine to keep it going. Now, all you could really hear was the monotonous sound of women moaning and screaming "fuck me! Fuck me!" until you heart the inevitable cum grunt of the guy at the end of the scene. Gone were the live groans of the guys in adjacent booths as they came and the sound of sloppy wet cocks being vigorously pumped. I missed that. It was a major disappointment.

No sooner did I get into the booth when the clerk came back and thumped on the door yelling, "I want to hear quarters dropping!" So, I did what he said and put four quarters into the slot. When I did, the bright screen went dark and the words Select Channel appeared in small red letters against the black background. But, before it sunk in that I had to press the selection button, I noticed light coming into my booth from the booths on either side of me. I noticed that there were oval holes cut between the booths and I could see that there were people in them; at least I could see their shoes. Curious, I bent over and peered through the hole into the booth to the right. The hole was at crotch height and I was looking directly at a cock being jerked. I swung around to the other wall and could see another guy masturbating. I was in heaven. Now, if only I could feel their sperm. I would just jump next door to the booth after the guy shot his load and left.

I squatted and watched the guy on the right since he had the nicer cock and waited for him to cum. He knew that I was watching because he turned to me just as he began to shoot and squirted his jizz at the hole, a big glob of white sperm landing at the bottom edge of the hole where I could easily get at it but by the time the guy cleaned himself up and left the booth, it had liquefied and flowed down the wall. I was disappointed that most of his cum had landed on the floor and now, as usual, there was just a trace of sperm for me to have. I was so lost in my excitement of having witnessed an ejaculation close up like that that I was shaking from head to toe. I was totally out of control; So much so that I did the unthinkable. I extended my tongue and licked the wet trail of the guys cum and brought it into my mouth. Realizing what I was doing brought about an immediate gag reflex. I sprang to my feet and pulled out my handkerchief and began wiping my tongue which caused me to retch even harder. Eventually, I got myself under control but was shocked at my depravity. Although disgusted with myself, I knew that I was not going to stop. I was spiraling downward just like a crack addict. There seemed to be no holding myself in check. The question was: what was I going to do next.

Even though I wiped most of the dirt and scum off of my tongue but the taste was still there, it tasted more like dirty plywood than anything else, but it did have a hint of a musky flavor. Unfortunately, the taste of musk was driving me deeper into this depraved behavior.

I was startled by a loud bang on the door and the clerk yelling "I want to hear quarters, boys!" I quickly dropped the rest of my quarters in the slot. I think it was around ten of them which should give me enough time to get my rocks off for the evening. I was just going to jerk off to the videos but my attention was again drawn to the flickering light coming out of that disgusting portal of perversion. Like a junkie, I squatted down to peer into the booth in hopes of seeing some guy stroking another nice cock and I wasn't disappointed. There before me was a handsome rather thick cock in full erection. It was floating by itself while the guy was using his hand to select a feature suitable for jerking off to. His hand returned and gave it a few strokes but left again apparently to find a better video. Finally, it returned and got down to business. I was impressed with its shape and girth. It was shorter than the last guy's but shaped better. As the guy really got into it, his dick started to weep and then drool that gleamed in the reflected light of the TV monitor. I wondered if he was aware of me watching him but found out quickly enough when he turned just like the last guy and faced the hole. Only he actually stuck his cock through it. I moved my head back so as not to make contact but knew in my soul what I wanted. I wanted it to taste it; not the cock so much but its ooze. I wanted to taste his jizz. Don't ask me why. I just did. I had finally admitted it to myself. It was an emancipating moment. I wanted cum.

With this new conviction, I moved my face closer to the thick turgid cock before me and placed my lips to the weeping slit at its tip with a light kiss of reverence. As my lips were spread apart slightly by the firm velvety head of his cock, I could feel the viscous fluid enter my mouth and coat my front teeth. Tantalized, I opened my mouth enough to extend my tongue to capture his essence and probe the leaking source of my quest. Excited as I was, this seepage was not the grail that I so desperately sought. I knew what I wanted and I resolved myself to that goal regardless of what I had to do to get it. I had never dreamt that I would be performing oral sex on man but that was the price I had to pay to slake my desire. Now, mentally unrestrained, I slowly leaned into him and began to swirl my tongue around the head of his expanding cock as it began to enter my mouth. I could feel his heat on my lips and the increasing flow of his precum in my mouth. I could feel his sexual excitement through our connection. With most of the head of his cock in my mouth, my tongue settled at the bottom of his leaking slit where I began a firm but slow excursion of the area beneath. Before I could get any more of the head into my mouth, I felt it pulse on my tongue and a warm flush of liquid flow onto it. The effect upon me was immediate. Every synapse in my brain seemed to fire off and send a thrill down my spine directly to my genitals. For the first time in my life, I was aware of my prostate and of my gonads as they worked together to force out a massive spurt of sperm that I could feel as it traveled through my urethra at the underside of my penis before it shot out with such force that I could here it being ejected and then hitting the wall in front of me. I had finally reached nirvana. I had found the grail; if I may mix metaphors. But, before I could deal with the initial effect, a second spurt issued from his penis into my mouth with so much force that it penetrated my clenched palate and went directly down my throat. I steeled myself for the next shot that I knew was coming and when it his with equal force, I was able to retain it in my mouth where I could savor it and enjoy it. But, I hadn't anticipated the volume of sperm that he could produce when a single expulsion filled my mouth to capacity. The mechanics of his ejaculation was astounding. Each pulse not only shot out with tremendous force but it also was of a long duration due to the extreme amount of semen he expelled. I quickly had to learn how to swallow just the right amount and synchronize it with his pulses so as not lose any of this precious fluid but also keep enough in my mouth that I could enjoy the sensation of his syrupy virile soup as well as its taste. Difficult as it was, I kept up with him throughout his long orgasm. I lost count but it was more than a dozen spurts of delicious sperm that was issued directly into my mouth. The last two had little force and I felt them more by the contractions of his penis than as volume of cum that I had to deal with.

As his dick began to diminish, I grasped it with my hand and, although still hard, I could feel his urgency subside. It was kind of shocking to have another man's dick in my hand but after what I had just done, I was dumb to be surprised by anything I would do. It was nice, though. The skin felt velvety over the firm shaft beneath, However, it was not cock I was after but sperm. So, I grabbed his cock and slid my hand from base to tip squeezing out the last droplets of his semen. As the last drop formed at the slit, I realized that I stood to loose some of the precious cargo in my mouth if I opened to lick it up. Rather than take that chance, I rubbed his cock against my face and smeared the last dollop around my lips and across my cheeks. This was an unexpected thrill as I spread the cum further around my face.

I felt a tug as he tried to pull his hips back from the hole and I reluctantly let him go and watched as that beautiful phallus disappeared into the darkness. In our mutual frenzy, each of us neglected to put enough quarters to keep the videos going, leaving us in darkness. I could hear him, in the dark, pulling up his trousers and buckling his belt as I continued to squat there staring at the empty hole in the wall. Eventually, I regained my feet and leaned my head against the wall still contemplating what I had just done and marveling at the wonderful texture of the mass of sperm I had in my mouth. I played with it using my tongue but noticed its consistency changing. It was beginning to lose its viscosity and becoming runny and starting to foam up from the agitation from my tongue. I didn't want my play to end but relented and swallowed it. I was left with a thick coating of slime in every part of my mouth and a tickling sensation in my throat causing me to attempt to clear it with a few ahem's and eventually a cough. Then, it was over; not the desire but only that one act and I was sure that it would be followed by many more..